Andrew Warhola was the sickly child of Slovak immigrants who came to the poor section of Pittsburg looking for a better life. From all accounts (from his brothers James and Paul Warhola to apprentice/"Whip Dancer" Gerard Malanga) Andy didn't fit in with the other boys too well, and he naturally gravitated to the arts and the glamour of Hollywood. Like a still life painting, the video crew shows us Andy's house at 3252 Dawson Street, and strolls past his elementary school where he first learned to draw. His bothers narrate as they display never before family photos and other early shots of our talented child. With no regret, Paul Warhol explains how their dad scrimped and saved to make enough money to send Andy to Carnegie Mellon so he could take advantage of his gift, but maybe it was because he knew that his effeminate son could never handle the rigors of factory life.

The decade-by-decade account shows us Warhol's move to the Big Apple where he ventured into commercial art, making those fabulous shoes and cats and dogs for fashion magazines, rubbing elbows with the Abstract Expressionists at Serendipity III, and fawning over Truman Capote. With a knack for pointing out the beauty and the horror in everyday objects (from soup cans to the headlines) Warhol became the face of American Pop Art, and in short order made iconic screen prints of Marilyn Monroe, Jackie O, Elizabeth Taylor, among others. The toast of the town, Warhol's workspace soon became as popular as his paintings, as everybody who was anybody in New York wanted to party at the Factory. In the mid-Sixties, at the height of success, Warhol decided to give up paintings and go into producing underground films and music. While celebrities dropped by the Factory, it was his own entourage that became his stars, or Superstars, as they would be dubbed. Ultraviolet talks about the phenom that was Edie Sedgwick. A good section of the documentary uses Billy Name's stark black and white photographs and vintage newsbytes in creating a good portrait of the doomed blonde (on blonde?). Billy Name, himself, talks about how Warhol met another striking blonde, Nico, and how the artist would impose her as the front woman for the new rock and roll band he was sponsoring, the Velvet Underground. Missing is a quote or two from Lou Reed, John Cale, or any other band member, but instead we get the dependable commentary of filmmaker/critic, Jonas Mekas, an absolute authority when it comes to the New York scene. He describes Warhol's infamous multimedia show, the EPI (Exploding Plastic Inevitable), that took place at the Dom (a Polish social hall) on St. Marks Place. Unfortunate for the film crew that got there a few years too late, the Dom's legendary stoop has been replaced by a Quiznos storefront; and in that way the film documents the extinction of some of New York's landmarks.

Speaking of extinction, Warhol himself was almost taken out by a mentally challenged, Valerie Solanas, a disgruntled feminist writer who shot him at the Factory's second location off Union Square. The subject matter is dealt with about as much class as a poke in the rear by the speed-addled publishing-heiress, Brigid Berlin. That awful, "Valerie, Don't!" voiceover comes back right before the shooting is compared to the assassination of Kennedy. Andy Warhol enters the Seventies almost as weak and vulnerable as he was back in Pittsburg, but he gets back on his feet with rock star status; just in time collaborate with Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones. He not only prospers throughout the "me" decade, his commissioned portraits become the status symbol of the greedy-set. The studio started to become more like a production line again, and that was good for Warhol, because he didn't have to host the party anymore, Studio 54 was like the disco version the Factory, anyway, and it was an entertaining way to drum up more business. By then collaborator Chris Makos and Interview Magazine editor Bob Colacello were expected to hustle celebrities, political figures, CEO's and their spoiled wives in for their portraits, as the latter explains on camera, no one looked to Andy for cutting edge art anymore, but his illustrated Polaroid's were paying the bills.

Chris Makos ventures into the delicate area of Warhol's love-life, as he was responsible for introducing him to Jon Gould, the guy who would help get over the break-up of Jed Johnson. Again, rare photos are shown of vacations and we get to see a more private Warhol. But as with most Warhol bio's out there, Vies Et Morts D' Andy Warhol (as they know it in France) makes clear who was his real love . . . Julia Warhola. In never before seen Super 8 footage we get to hang out with Andy and his mom, and her affection for her little boy is heartwarming. The Eighties was an interesting period for Warhol, becoming a corporate entity in his own right he was still interested in young artists (Jean Michel Basquiat or Keith Haring) and he was making some of his most adventurous work yet (taking a whiz on the canvas, anyone?). And even though Warhol experienced the AIDS scare firsthand (Gould contracted the disease), he was optimistic about ushering the MTV era. In another example of great found footage, Vecchiet shows us clips of Warhol's TV show, but even more haunting is tape of Warhol at a celebrity fashion show just five days prior to his death. So fearful, the Wigged One was of hospitals, that he endured an enormous amount of pain before finally agreeing to take care of his gallbladder. Makos, and his nephew George Warhola (who answered phones at the Factory) speak to the ominous timing of Warhol's version of the Last Supper, a series that didn't mock religion as much as people may assume. In fact, we meet Father Damian McCarthy who describes a private and meditative Warhol that would come to church almost every day.

With text by the controversial J.T. Leroy, the cool factor of the doc is reduced by one of the most annoying and distracting soundtracks ever. Instead of creating the mood of the time and place when Billy Name starts describing the "Silver Factory," they play this awful faux heavy metal music. Even E True Hollywood Story attempts to recreate period music when they can't get the rights to anything official. Instead, the music goes from bad to worse, going from Elastica and Garbage-esque songs to reducing the whole thing to a ridiculous musical of sorts, where the group Sold Out is singing about Campbell's Soup cans. The music seriously almost makes you want to skip past good stuff, and almost enough for you to abandon the whole film at times.

Video: As mentioned, Andy Warhol: Life & Death was shot on PAL, which means there's a larger image to look at. While that sounds cool, it doesn't do you any good when we meet new characters and you can't see their name because half of it is off the screen, because the image was cropped but not anamorphically coded. When French is spoken we get English subtitles . . .sometimes. It would have been nice if the Chapter titles were also in English as well, something they never bother with. The quality of the video is fine, as far as the blacks go, but the colors of the new footage should look much fresher. The menus are also a little clumsy to deal with, and forget about getting past the opening trailer they make you watch every time you put the disc on.

Sound: The disc won't make your speakers dance, despite the fact that the music is all new and presented Dolby Surround 2.0. In fact, for a documentary that with brand new music, the sound was really unimpressive. In addition to the music ruining the context of the scene, in many cases, it drowns out the person being interviewed.

Extras: The extras look as if they received no love at all, as here they didn't even bother to translate for us when needed. If you didn't already know, you would never know that you were looking at Carmen D'Alessio and Ian Schrager from Studio 54, because they are never identified. Schrager tells a funny story about how he and Warhol would throw dollar bills in the garbage for fun (of course Warhol would take the trash can home with him at the end).

Music Videos: We get to see two videos by the group who almost single-handedly ruin the whole thing. Yay! Their singer does have something going on, however, and if these videos were on a DVD of unsigned bands I would probably give it a thumbs up.

Ms. Warhola's Kielbassa and Easter bread recipes, as told to you by her son.

Photo Gallery: Billy Name's photographs are heavily featured in this documentary, and in this section we get to see stills from both of his books: All Tomorrow's Parties (with some pretty cool cross-processed stuff) and Billy Name: Stills from the Warhol Films.

Trailer: Louis de Funès is absolutely hilarious, even in this short trailer for La Folie des grandeurs - but good luck getting past it.

Final Thought: One thing that is for sure, and this is something Karl Lagerfeld's interview helps make clear, is that whether you are aware of it or not, Andy Warhol's presence is all around us; from the sudden fame of "reality show" actors to the drugged-up looking model in that Calvin Klein ad, to the way we look at food packaging. Andy Warhol not only made Pop Art, he affected popular culture forever. If you weren't a devoted fan to begin with, this documentary will do nothing to mystify you the way Ric Burns' Andy Warhol: A Documentary Film will. Getting players like Taylor Mead may be well and good, and the research is commendable, but this is sloppy filmmaking at best, and at worst it's cheesy and exploitive ("No Valerie!"). Again, if you're a Warhol freak, then you need to see this, but turn down the sound and put on the Velvet's with Nico instead.